Hard Truths
by The Draigg
Summary: After the discovery of something lurking under Quarrycrest sends the eight travelers reeling, it is now time to pick up the pieces and sort out what they feel after a rather gruesome sight was revealed to them. Are they all strong enough to carry on, or will they fall prey to self-doubt and terror after seeing true horror? Spoilers for Cyrus and Tressa's Chapter 2 stories.
1. Chapter 1

**_Hard Truths_**

 **Chapter 1: After the Discovery**

 **Greetings! The Draigg speaking here before the story starts, and I just wanted to say a few quick things. Firstly, this story contains spoilers for Cyrus' and Tressa's Chapter 2 stories, so be warned in case you haven't gotten that far into Octopath Traveler yet. Secondly, whatever characters and overall story presented here is owned by Square Enix, not I. You all know this, but it's good to cover the bases. With that said, let's get to the story!**

 **XXX**

The attitude around the inn table was one of glowering somberness. What other attitude was appropriate after seeing the horrors hidden in the sewers and passages that lay hidden away under Quarrycrest?

Some of the members of the traveling caravan of adventurers were already hesitant to make the journey out the way to Quarrycrest. Therion and H'aanit saw no real value in deviating off of the beaten path of their quests to go visit some mining town on what felt like the edge of Orsterra. Olberic, Primrose, Ophilia, and Alfyn were content to be swayed by Cyrus and Tressa's arguments for visiting. Perhaps now they were somewhat regretting that decision, even if they weren't vocalizing it.

Instead, the only sound that was being made around the group was the scraping and clattering of the group's cutlery as they ate dinner at the end of a long, long, dreadfully long day. It was hard to get any food to stay down after what they saw in Gideon's lair, but they needed to eat at some point.

Someone needed to step up and at least try to get some conversation going. Begrudgingly, Olberic tried to open up some discourse. "…Look, today has been… difficult. But keeping quiet about it won't help."

"Difficult?!" Therion suddenly spat out, glaring at Olberic as he clattered down an empty ale mug. "I told all of you going here was a waste of time. And _now_ you're implying that it was a bad idea?"

Primrose quickly jumped into the conversation with, "Therion, we had no idea at the time that—"

"That what, it would be better not to come here at all?" Therion shot back.

Cyrus placed a hand on Therion's shoulder. "Therion... it was by my insistence that we come here. If you have anyone to blame, it would be me. I pushed for it, and I know that we can never un-see what we saw."

Therion crossed his arms. "I'm glad we agree on one thing. Because I do blame you. And Tressa too."

The others looked mortified at Therion laying on the blame thick. It was clear that Tressa was the most affected by what they had witnessed down in the catacombs. The color still hadn't fully returned to her skin, and she had remained silent the entire time spent getting back to the inn and ordering dinner. Alfyn had to pretty much take care of any question asked at her for the past few hours.

"Okay, Therion buddy, that's enough," Alfyn insisted strongly. His voice was noticeably lacking the normal country charm and warmth it had.

"Please, just leave the poor girl alone," added Ophilia. "She's had enough for one day."

At those words, Therion abruptly stood up from the table. "Good. So have I," he curtly said before walking towards the hallway back to the rooms they were staying in.

Ophilia immediately stood up to try and stop Therion from leaving, but she in turn was stopped by H'aanit gently grabbing at her arm. "I wouldn'st try," she said. "His minde hath been maden up."

Ophilia sat back down, dejected at not being able to help. In some ways, she knew that H'aanit was right. There was no real way to calm down Therion at that very moment. He would just have to simmer in his own anger for a little while before he cooled down. Besides, Tressa obviously needed her help as well.

Instead of staring blankly at her plate and slowly eating, Tressa now had her face firmly buried in her hands, not even sobbing or anything. One would think that she was a mere corpse, preserved and stuck in a slumped forward position. Ophilia let out a sigh at how sad the image was.

"Tressa… do you want to go to your room?" Ophilia gently asked. That got her a very slight nodding of the head from Tressa's otherwise motionless form. At that, Ophilia then stood up and walked over to Tressa, before gently taking the young girl's hand and helping her to her feet.

"We'll be retiring for the night. Good night, and I will see you all in the morning," Ophilia cordially bid farewell before leading Tressa back down the same path Therion had departed down moments ago.

Olberic merely took a deep swig of the flagon of ale in front of him and pinched the bridge of his nose. "She's too young to see such perversity…" he said to nobody in particular.

"I don't think anybody of any age should really be seeing that kind of thing," replied Primrose.

"You said it," Alfyn agreed, rubbing his temples.

"At the very least, we stopped that madman," added Cyrus.

H'aanit nodded in agreement with Cyrus. "Agreed. T'was no man in those caverns, t'was a monster in human guise."

That was a fact that the entire group could agree on. Gideon was easily the most depraved and morally bankrupt person the group had encountered on their journey thus far. To use men and women as mere resources, materials to be merely calculated and alchemized, was truly the most sickening aspect of his former character. All of Orsterra was now a slightly better place now that he was dead. However, that didn't mean that any of the travelers had to like how they had discovered his lab or put an end to his plans, felt Olberic.

XXX

 _The final blow on Gideon was struck by Olberic's mighty sword slash. It sent the dark sorcerer reeling to the floor on his back, gasping and feebly grasping at the now bleeding wound on his chest seeping out blood. In a fury, Olberic picked up the wizard by the neck and slammed him against the wall._

 _"_ _Don't think you are to die yet, wastrel," Olberic growled at Gideon. He motioned at Cyrus to come closer. Undoubtedly the professor still wanted to follow his lead on the tome he had been searching for, and now would be the last time to get any clear answers._

 _"_ _I'll ask you once more," Cyrus firmly said, "why perform this ritual? What directed you to do it?"_

 _Gideon responded to Cyrus' questioning by spitting upon his cloak. He let out a raspy, choking laugh as he saw the dark blood of his spit staining the scholar's fine silk cloak. "Sorry, academic… that knowledge isn't for you."_

 _For a brief moment, frustration flashed in Cyrus' eyes before turning away from the dying man. "Then you're responsible for what comes next," Cyrus responded._

 _On that cue, Olberic stopped holding Gideon by the throat and instead grabbed him by the sides of his head. Positioning his thumbs over the mad magician's eyes, Olberic summoned upon as much strength as he could to press his thumbs into the man's eye sockets as hard has he could. Gideon's raspy laughs eventually devolved into screams that rose in octave as his eyes exploded from the pressure, and the sides of his eye sockets started to fracture from the sheer crushing power of Olberic's hold. No longer holding himself back, Olberic started to bash Gideon's head against the stone wall until the dying man's screams stopped. By the time Olberic was done, the contents of Gideon's skull were so thoroughly pulped that they could be used to paint the side of a house._

 _Letting the corpse fall to the ground, Olberic turned to face the rest of the group as Cyrus started to search Gideon's corpse for any helpful clues. He faintly heard Cyrus discover a book in the man's robes as he walked over to where the others were assembled._

 _The rest of the group wasn't a very pleasant sight. Both Alfyn and Ophilia were desperately trying to stabilize the half-dead victims of Gideon's mad process with their medicine skills and healing magic respectively. Therion was furiously trying to scrub all the blood off his poncho, which had come from both the blood-suctioning equipment and from stabbing Gideon in the side during the previous battle. H'aanit was gathering up her arrows that she used in the fight, with an expression of cold rage plain on her face. And finally, in a corner of the room, was Primrose and Tressa. Primrose was doing her best to comfort Tressa, but it clearly wasn't working. The poor merchant girl was uncontrollably heaving and vomiting up the contents of her stomach. Olberic honestly couldn't blame her. The sheer depravity on display in the hidden lair would cause lesser men to faint on the spot._

 _Walking up to Primrose, Olberic asked, "How's she holding up?". Olberic had to admit to himself that it was a rather obvious question, but he couldn't just let a comrade in need just lay in despair like that._

 _Primrose continued to rub Tressa's back as the girl continued to hack and gag. "She's… not doing so good."_

 _"_ _Tressa? Can you hear me?" Olberic gently asked. At that, Tressa turned to face the knight in red-stained blue. The poor girl was trembling in place looking at Olberic. "You were very brave to come in here, Tressa," Olberic continued. "And you also helped to stop a very bad man. Not a lot of people could do what you've helped us do."_

 _However, Olberic's attempts at trying to comfort Tressa didn't seem to be taking very much. "I-I-I need to go h-home," she stammered, "My p-parents must be so w-worried, and they h-have a sh-shop they need my help to r-r-run, and… and…". She then turned back around to unleash more bile from her mouth into the corner._

 _Olberic let out a heavy sigh. He wished that it would have never come to this. People like Tressa didn't need to see the utter depths of the moral abyss men could sink to. She had a lot to look forward to in life. Something like this could leave a black mark on a person's soul that could never go away. And what if Philip saw something like that…_

 _Olberic shook that thought out of his head. Grappling with such an idea wasn't too healthy, especially just after a large fight. There was a time and place for that, and it was certainly meant for later rather than the present._

 _At that, Olberic then turned to Alfyn and Ophilia to help Gideon's living victims up to their feet. It was something else to focus on. Focus was all that mattered at the moment._

XXX

"I don't regreten killing that man," H'aanit firmly stated, knocking Olberic out of his recollection. "Justice was broughten upon him."

"Nor I," added Primrose. "I don't think anyone would say that bastard dying was a bad thing to occur."

"Yes… but the real question is what to do now that we know that Gideon was only part of a larger design," mused Cyrus as he pulled out a small red book and absently flipped the pages. "I must investigate this copy of _From the Far Reaches of Hell_ at haste. Once I've conducted my analysis of the book, I'll tell Odette what I've discovered."

Alfyn nodded along with Cyrus' out-loud thinking. "Yeah, checking out that freaky book would be a good idea. Maybe we'll be able to find who's behind it all and stop them. Someone causing that much harm simply can't be allowed to continue."

Standing up, Cyrus billowed out his cloak with dramatic flair. "Fear not, I will discover this tome's manufacturer by the morn! Now, if you will all excuse me, I need to take a closer look at the make of this book."

H'aanit stood up as well. "I shall retiren as well," she said. "Linde needen some food for the night." With those words, she grabbed her plate still covered in potatoes and lamb and headed back towards her room. Cyrus followed after her.

Only Olberic, Primrose, and Alfyn remained at the table. Primrose pushed around some uneaten radishes around her plate with her fork, suddenly feeling hesitant to continue the conversation. Olberic continued to silently sip on his ale. Alfyn, however, then decided to vocalize some of his inner thoughts.

"Ya know, as an apothecary, I can't say that I wouldn't have seen wounds like that sooner or later," he admitted. "But I can't just shake one thing. The lab equipment in that dungeon was more advanced than anything I've seen, and those books on his desk were all medical in nature, ones that I haven't even dreamed to get my hands on. So why would someone who had all that knowledge chose to hurt people? He could've been a great doctor or apothecary! But instead he chose to maim, and hurt, and kill. I just can't split it. It's the most gods-damned unthinkable thing I've encountered."

Primrose gave a defeated shrug. "Sometimes people are just born evil. Like they're missing some fundamental part of themselves that others have, but they don't possess."

"You sound like you speak with experience," said Alfyn.

"Life is a harsh teacher, and an even harsher experience," replied the dancer.

Olberic's shoulders slumped. "If only we could so easily understand people, the world would indeed be a much more tolerable place."

"But that's why we're here, right Sir Olberic?" asked Alfyn. "We just can't stand idly by as people get hurt."

"Indeed, the oath I once swore as a knight of Hornburg and the oath of the apothecary do overlap in that regard. But even I will admit that sometimes it's hard to see why we do what we swore to perform. Orsterra is an unfair realm," was Olberic's jaded response.

"Then I pray to Aelfric that your vision clears. I sincerely do," said Alfyn without any hint of irony or malice. Then, Alfyn quickly downed the rest of his drink and stood up from the table. "We'll meet here in the morning for breakfast, yeah?"

Olberic nodded. "Right. I bid thee goodnight, Alfyn."

"And to you as well, Sir Olberic," bade Alfyn as he departed.

Now that Olberic and Primrose were alone, the dancer turned to the knight and placed a smooth hand on his armored shoulder. "Should we retire for the night as well?" Primrose asked.

"I suppose we shall," decided Olberic. "I have the feeling that we will need every bit of rest after the events of today."

"That goes without saying," Primrose agreed.

Leaving the table behind, Primrose and Olberic left to the room they had rented at the back portion of the inn. The both of them couldn't help but shake the feeling that in spite of their desire to rest for the night, neither of them would get much sleep. Or the rest of the caravan, for that matter.

 **XXX**

 **To be honest, this story idea has been kicking around in my head ever since I finished Cyrus' second chapter. It's really quite dark compared to where Cyrus started off in his first chapter. Thus, it's a section that's ripe for some character examination, especially if the entire party was there to witness it. Hopefully you're all interested in how this will play out, since I personally haven't seen character stuff like this elsewhere. Let me know what you think! This has been The Draigg, and I'm signing off this chapter for now.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Dawn of a Grey Morning**

 **The aftermath continues! How will the Octopath Travelers be able to cope with the horrors they've witnessed in Gideon's dark lair down in the sewers of Quarrycrest? Will their inner strength prevail in the darkness of uncertainty? For their sakes, I hope so. But let's read on and find out!**

 **XXX**

Tressa's eyes blinked open, and she found herself staring at the wooden ceiling of the inn room that she and Ophilia were sharing.

Rubbing her eyes, Tressa sat up in her bed and looked over at the opposite bunk. In it, Ophilia was still sleeping, her light breath being the only noise made in the early morning hours of Quarrycrest's inn. The light that poured in through the windows and onto Ophilia's sleeping form was dim. If Tressa were to guess, it was pretty foggy outside. That made sense. Quarrycrest was a mountain town, after all.

Tressa reached over to the nearby end table where a complimentary pitcher of water was located for the guests that rented the room. She took a swig straight out of the pitcher and put it back in place, before sinking back down onto the bed. If she was being honest with herself, she just didn't have the energy to get out of bed.

Yesterday, Tressa had not only shown herself to be a coward, but also a child. Sure, she fought against that evil man down in the sewers, but she was completely terrified while she did it. She wasn't like the brave knight Sir Olberic nor like her father, Olneo. Tressa used to hear about all the adventures her dad had undergone back when he was an adventuring merchant. He beat back pirates, dire wolves, lizardmen, bandits, and all a manner of other killer creatures with nothing but his spear. People to this day still recognized him by his old nickname, the Muscled Merchant.

It was Tressa's greatest dream to do something like what her father used to do before he married and settled down in Rippletide. But now that she had a real taste of the true peril that existed in Orsterra… Tressa just felt plain unworthy of being like her father. She wasn't a Muscled Merchant. She was a Cowardly Child.

"Why am I even a Colzione?" Tressa quietly muttered to the ceiling. Tressa the Cowardly Child Calzione. That's what she was. She couldn't live up to her father, and she certainly couldn't live up to the mysterious author of the journal she found on Captain Leon's ship.

As Tressa lay in bed, she suddenly heard a soft knocking sound at her room's door. Ophilia let out a small groan at the noise that briefly interrupted her rest, but otherwise was content to keep on sleeping. Sitting up again, Tressa then noticed a small bit of paper slip under the crack of the door as the sound of footsteps got father away.

Hauling herself out of bed, Tressa quietly crept over to the door to pick up the paper. Grabbing it, she then returned to her bed to read it. It was an unsealed note, and once she looked at the text on the paper, she saw it was nearly illegible. That made it very clear to Tressa who wrote the note. Even H'aanit had better handwriting and spelling than the person who wrote this, and the huntress grew up in a town that hardly ever had paper.

The letter read as verbatim:

 _"_ _Soree for beeng angree last nite. Meet me at markit wenever. –Therion"_

Normally, Tressa would laugh at the sheer illiteracy on display by Therion. It would've been nice leverage on the sniping back and forth they normally did while walking the roads. But now, it just left an odd feeling in Tressa's heart. Why was he apologizing? He was right yesterday that she was responsible in part for getting the whole group in that mess. She was a stupid, stupid child, who couldn't help but vomit when the reality of that 'workshop' hit her. She never should've left Rippletide.

The desire to know why Therion wanted to apologize was clashing internally with Tressa's feelings of self-loathing. After a moment or so, the curiosity within her won out. Let it never be said that Tressa was too curious for her own good.

Silently, Tressa slipped on her travel dress and leather vest. Then, after messing with her hair a little bit, she put on her trademark merchant's cap. She honestly felt a little bit better wearing it. Her lucky hat had never let her down. Finally, slipping on her traveler's boots, Tressa was ready to go see what Therion wanted down in the market of Quarrycrest. After all, a merchant always had to inspect a deal closely when offered, no matter what the situation was.

But, just to be safe, Tressa jotted down a quick note to Ophilia, saying that she was out for the morning. The last thing Tressa wanted was to let down her new friends even more than she already did. It did no good for them to worry about her.

At that, Tressa snuck out of the room, and made her way out of the inn.

XXX

Therion ambled about the half-empty stalls of the Quarrycrest market square as he waited for Tressa to arrive. Of course, as he hadn't exactly specified a time on his note, he was ready to wait for a while. At least there was plenty of things to see (and possibly steal) in and around the market booths.

Even though it was early in the morning, the roads and pathways of Quarrycrest were starting to get busy, with mine foremen and workers making their way to the town's namesake for their starting shifts. It had only been a few days ever since Tressa rallied the rest of the party to deal with the mine's previous owner, Morlock, at the man's mansion, but it seemed like the town was booming more than ever. Therion couldn't help but smile a bit at that little adventure with Tressa. Morlock had more than enough leaves laying around that Therion was more than willing to partake in. Besides, nobody else in the party bothered to stop him from picking open that strongbox that they found while raiding the mansion. If anything, it might as well have been pure consent and approval on their parts.

As he made his way through the throngs of miners, Therion took in the scenery a bit. It was a foggy morning, meaning that visibility was limited enough that his chances to steal something were pretty good. The hazy cloud covering the town made for good natural camouflage. Besides, Therion was already used to making himself seem like just another random face in the crowd. He might as well have been invisible that morning.

It was like child's play when he decided to swipe an apple from an unsuspecting fruit stall. It was one of the large green ones that people with odd tastes liked. Therion wasn't the largest fan of that kind of apple, but he wasn't one to complain that much. It would make for a half-decent breakfast regardless.

Munching on his ill-gotten treat, Therion sat on a low fence as the rest of the town seemed to rush past him. For the briefest moment, Therion wondered what it would be like if he had a job like all those miners. A brief shake of his head cleared his mind of such thoughts. His skillset, honed after a childhood on the streets, was suited for a much different clientele. Therion couldn't help but blanche at the thought of working for a client, though. He was only on his job to steal back the Dragonstones for the Ravus House because he got duped into doing it. It was a plain mistake, and one could never fully anticipate when they'd hit hard. If it was truly up to him, Therion would much prefer to swipe whatever he set his eyes upon, sell it to the fences he normally visited, and continue on his merry way.

Therion lifted up his wrist to look at the Fool's Bangle dangling from it. He wasn't sure what was worse, that it showed that a thief like him messed up badly, or that it was pretty much a job contract literally shackled to him. "Look at me, working for a living," he dryly noted to himself out loud.

"Oh, you've found an actual job now? It's about time."

Therion recognized the young voice and turned around to see the face it belonged to. Surely enough, it was Tressa. The happy-go-lucky smile that was usually on her face was gone, instead replaced with an expression that could be described as being neutral at best.

Therion shrugged and tossed the now-finished apple in the bushes. "What I do is about as real as whatever you do for a living."

"I make my leaves honestly," Tressa commented. "Is that what you called me out here to do? To talk about my craft?"

"To be honest, I wasn't expecting you to find me so quickly," Therion admitted. It was true, he was expecting at least a little more time to put together an idea of how to talk to Tressa. Or at least find the right words to say regarding his actions last night that didn't make him out to be totally the bad guy.

Tressa pointed out, "You're not even that far from the inn. Like only about five minutes away."

Looking behind him, Therion noticed that Tressa was indeed correct. Somehow in his random wanderings, he had made a loop somewhere and was making his way back towards the inn before stopping to eat his apple. Another honest mistake, really.

"Look, besides all that, I did ask you to meet me out here for a reason. I thought being around shops would make you more comfortable or something," said Therion, moving on.

"For?" questioned Tressa.

Therion sighed. Improvisation was an essential skill to have a thief, but it harder to do when the person you're talking to has already gotten to know you for a while. There was no room for bluffs, especially with someone with a keen social sense like Tressa.

"About last night… uh, look, I'm sorry. Yeah, sorry," was the best Therion could come up with on the spot.

It was evident that wasn't convincing Tressa in any way, as she near immediately turned back around to head back towards the inn.

"Wait, wait!" Therion called out to Tressa. "Urgh, crap, I'm bad at this… What I want to say is… it's that it was a mistake, okay? It was wrong to call you out on something you had no control over."

That got Tressa to stop in her tracks. Inwardly, Therion was glad to see that at least he had gotten a foot in the door. That was enough to make Therion continue.

"People make mistakes all the time. Just look," said Therion as he displayed his Fool's Bangle to Tressa. "You already know what this is. It's proof that I can be wrong sometimes. I'm sure as hells not proud of it, but it's true."

"But I pushed for it!" cried Tressa. "I wanted to come here to sell a bunch of stupid shiny rocks, and we ended up seeing stuff that would make Aelfric puke!"

"Cyrus was wanting to come here too, don't forget about him," pointed out Therion. "And I bet he had no idea we'd find some crazy lab in the sewers. Do you really think him looking for an overdue library book gave him any idea of what was happening down there?"

"Well, no…" Tressa admitted.

"Mistakes happen. It's a hard truth, I know. But they do. And all we can do afterwards is try to make sure that things aren't horribly damaged because of it," Therion said. "The other guys are fine, and Alfyn and Ophilia managed to actually save some of the people that were trapped in that cell. If anything, it ended as well as it possibly could have."

"But… Therion…" Tressa began to timidly ask. "Do you really mean it?"

"Why wouldn't I mean it?" asked Therion back.

"Back last night, it really sounded like you meant everything you said… And I agreed with you. You could just be lying to make me feel better," Tressa admitted. It was true, she really did blame herself for coming to Quarrycrest, all to prove that she was something she wasn't. She felt like a child being lied to by a parent to get them to stop crying.

"To be honest, I did feel that at the moment," also admitted Therion. "It was partially the ale talking, but yeah, I did say that I blamed you and Cyrus. Doesn't mean that I can't look back and say that I was wrong."

Tressa looked down at her feet. It really did feel like Therion was being completely honest with her. While that was nice of him, even nicer than expected of him, it still didn't stop her from feeling like garbage. It was like she completely betrayed the trust of people she had come to see as friends, and was being absolved of it without any form of penance.

"…Am I still your friend?" hesitantly asked Tressa.

The pragmatic inner lone-wolf inside Therion screamed for him to say no. No, thieves like him don't need partners or friends except for rather pressing or dire situations. But, at the same time, the inner empathetic person was making a consistent, even if it was rather silent by comparison, opposite plea. Therion felt like he had to go with that consistent feeling rather than the immediate one.

"…Yeah. And I really, really don't say that often. So—" Therion began to say, before suddenly being cut off by a large hug from Tressa.

To say that Tressa felt relief upon hearing those words would be an understatement. That feeling crashed over her harder than any wave she had seen on the shores of Rippletide, even during storm season. It felt even stronger somehow when Tressa suddenly noticed that Therion put an arm on her as well. It was so strong that it started to make her cry.

"…So, when I say that, I mean it," finished Therion.

"A-and the oth-others?" came Tressa's voice, muffled inside of Therion's poncho.

"Well, I don't think I need to say that they like you regardless. That was pretty clear last night," Therion assuaged her, remembering how that jumped at her defense immediately.

Picking her head up, Tressa started to laugh. While it was good to hear, Therion still couldn't help but look confused at the sudden change in mood. "G-god Therion, I've been acting so stupid!" Tressa chortled in relief.

"Still not the dumbest person in the party," said Therion with a small smile. "Cyrus gives that title a good run sometimes."

That comment made Tressa laugh more. Cyrus was probably the smartest yet most generally oblivious person both Therion and Tressa had ever met before. He was proof that intelligence alone wasn't enough to get very far in terms of having a life outside of classrooms and studies.

Once the laughter from Tressa died down, she wiped her eyes and gave Therion a small smile. "Thanks for talking to me," she said. "You know… I'll admit that I feel weak sometimes. Like maybe there's some obstacles I can't overcome. But I know that if I have people like you by my side, we can accomplish anything."

It was true that Tressa didn't have the muscles of Olberic or her father, or the mind of Cyrus, or even the mastery over light and dark magic like Ophilia and Primrose possessed. But, together, all the eight travelers of the caravan complimented each other very well. They were all parts of a whole that fit together nicely. Even Therion had a place, even if he did break the law rather frequently. The both of them saw the value in things, just from different points of view.

Therion took his arm away from the embrace and gave her a quick pat on the shoulder. "I would be lying if I said that you weren't good at what you do," was his genuine compliment.

"I'm my father's daughter, after all. You ever hear of Olneo Colzione?" Tressa asked.

Therion scratched his head in thought as he said, "I think I knew a guy or two who got their ass whooped trying to steal from him. Broke their arms, in fact."

Tressa nodded. "Yeah, that sounds like him back from his traveling days."

"Well, hopefully you won't do the same to me," said Therion.

Tressa gave Therion a light hit on the shoulder. "As long as you don't steal in front of me, I won't hurt you. Much."

" _That's_ certainly reassuring," Therion snarked. "By the way, you got slobber on my poncho."

"As if that thing is very clean in the first place," pointed out Tressa. "It smells like sweat and old potatoes."

Therion shrugged. "Contrary to how good my skills are, I don't really have that many leaves on me. They're the only clothes I have."

Now it was Tressa's turn to poke fun at Therion. "And here I thought you were such an elegant master thief, pilfering helpless purses and stealing ladies' hearts all around Orsterra!"

"There's a time and a place for that. Besides, spending money on ale is way better than spending money on women. In my experience, the former feels a lot warmer in the chest than the latter," dryly explained Therion.

"And that's why you don't have a girlfriend," Tressa teased.

Therion threw his hands up in the air. "I don't need to take advice from a little girl who still has her maidenhead."

That made Tressa give Therion another punch to the shoulder. "A girl who can kick your butt!"

The ensuing back and forth lasted for the entirety of the start of the shifts down at the mines. While they were still talking, the streets cleared of miners and foremen, and merchants had finally settled in their stalls for the day. The mood among the travelers had certainly changed, and where once was conflict, there was resolution. Well, up to a certain point. A merchant and a thief had traits that mixed as well as oil and water. But the effort expended by Therion absolutely did make a difference.

Even in the face of horrors adversity, there was a bond between the members of the traveling caravan that could chase away the darkness, and leave only behind the strength of those who seek to make their place in the world a certainty.

After all, isn't that what partners existed for?

 **XXX**

 **I hope you liked that conversation between Tressa and Therion! I really do like their characters, and I hope I did them at least some justice. After traveling together for a while, you'd just naturally expect them to have some kind of rapport that they can fall back on. However, that isn't so say that the other Octopath Travelers are over what exactly they saw as well. They still have to confront that refutation to their ideals, after all. Be sure to tune in then!**

 **This is The Draigg, and I'm signing off on this chapter for now!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Travelers Around The Table**

 **Chapter three! I hope you liked the previous one. I do believe that Tressa would have the gumption to push herself through some rough times. She's a regular ball of moxie, that girl. Anyways, let's get onto what the other travelers are getting up to.**

 **XXX**

For a rare moment in his life, Olberic didn't wake up from the same dream he normally did. More often than not, his mind was filled with images of the slain body of his king, and the bloody sword of the murderer glistening in the afternoon light of the sun. But this time, it was truly different. Although, all that isn't to say that Olberic had a better dream in its stead.

This night, a wholly fresh nightmare plagued his dreaming consciousness. In it, he found himself back in Gideon's damned laboratory. Olberic found himself trying to grasp for the familiar weight of his sword sheathed at his side, but he merely grabbed at air. In front of him, laying prone in the middle of that red, glowing magical circle that dominated the dungeon, lay Tressa. And, to Olberic's horror, Gideon was leering over her, a wicked smile stretched across his thin lips. Olberic cried out for someone, any one of his traveling companions to try and save her, but then he realized that they were all shackled to the walls of the room, hooked up to infernal machines sucking the very life essence out of them.

Every single member of Olberic's new caravan was a ghastly sight. Alfyn was barely clinging to life, trying to mutter medical instructions on how to save him. H'aanit was pulling at her chains, trying to reach the corpse of Linde who lay at her feet. The snow leopard's bowels were hanging out of a massive wound in the poor cat's stomach. Unfortunately, all the huntress could do was growl and scream at Gideon in a near feral state. Therion and Cyrus were already dead, completely sucked dry of their blood. Their complexions could only be matched by the appearance of white candlewax. Ophilia was feebly praying to whatever gods could hear her, which was only barely audible between her agonized groans. And Primrose…

What was done to Primrose was better off being left to the imagination.

Turning back, Olberic found himself unfortunately faced with the view of Gideon lifting a wicked dagger over Tressa's chest, before bring it down again, and again, and again. There was only one thing Olberic could do at the sight. Scream.

"NOOOOOOO!"

XXX

Olberic woke up with a gasp.

"Bad dreams again?" a voice asked to Olberic's side.

Looking over, Olberic saw Primrose looking at him from the table and chair set in the corner of the inn room. Her eyes were looking at him with a distantly interested expression. Although Primrose did often pass herself off with an elegant attitude, Olberic was seeing right through her mask. She was concerned, even if she was trying to look absorbed in applying her normal dancer's makeup.

"Yes…" was Olberic's semi-hesitant answer.

Primrose sighed. "To be honest, I didn't sleep well either. I'm no stranger to violence, but that dungeon… it was as if Galdera himself blighted our eyes."

"That's putting it lightly," Olberic commented as he pulled himself out of bed. With an awkward silence, he then pulled on the pieces of armor her wore alongside his blue tunic. He couldn't help but linger at the sight of the blue tunic for a minute before putting it on.

Even if Hornburg was now a collection of rubble and broken ideals, Olberic still held himself to the code of conduct that was expected of a knight. Chivalry wasn't an idea attached to nations, it was a concept that one held dear in his heart, something that was more powerful than any blast of magic or point of a lance. But yet even codes of honor couldn't save everyone…

There were days where Olberic questioned why he swung his blade even more than usually. That morning was proving that it was going to be one of those days.

With a weary expression on his face, Olberic completed donning his knightly uniform and headed towards the door. He then nodded at Primrose. "Care to get some breakfast?" he asked.

Primrose applied some power to her cheeks. "Order something for me. Beauty is a process that is as strict as it is rewarding."

Wordlessly understanding the order, Olberic then left the room and headed towards the common eating room that the inn had. Alfyn was probably waiting for someone to show up. He was always the first to grab a table, after all.

As soon as Olberic hit the doorway that lead to the dining area, he suddenly felt someone collide with his back. The rather posh-sounding grunt behind him gave Olberic a fair idea of who it was that literally ran into him. Turning around, he found his suspicions were indeed correct.

"I'm terribly sorry about that, Sir Olberic," apologized Cyrus. "I was so absorbed in my observations and discoveries made last night that I neglected to watch my own path."

"It's quite fine," said Olberic. Then, he added, "Did you find what you were looking for?"

Cyrus nodded. "I have indeed! I was just on my way to Odette's abode to share my findings about Gideon's little book. I must say, whomever commissioned this abridged version of _From the Far Reaches of Hell_ had a good mind to have it richly bound. Indeed, the glue used on the book's spine is made of a mixture of pine tar and gum extract, which indicates—"

Olberic cut off Cyrus' impending lecture. "I'm quite fine not knowing the specifics, Professor. But please, do go confirm your findings and return to us with them."

"Oh, excuse my prattling. Don't worry, I shall return back to this very inn by the noon!" declared Cyrus. At that, the professor made his way past Olberic with haste, and was soon out of the inn's front door.

At a much more relaxed pace, Olberic sauntered up to the table where Alfyn was clearly gawking at how fast Cyrus had passed him by. The apothecary was still looking when Olberic pulled out a chair and sat himself down, leaving an open seat between them of Primrose to sit in.

Turning to Olberic, Alfyn asked, "I take it he's discovered something new?"

Olberic nodded. "Aye. Professor Albright has found a lead he wishes to bring up with his colleague."

"Hopefully it brings us one step closer to stopping whoever made that book," commented Alfyn in response.

Sighing, Olberic said, "T'would be far better if the trail ended at Gideon. But life is never so simple."

Alfyn nodded. "You can say that again."

A slightly awkward mood fell across the table at the end of that discussion. It wasn't like there was much to build on with that comment. It was just a plain depressing thought, that such fearsome power was lurking actively in the shadows. For all they knew, the person who gifted the copy of _From the Far Reaches of Hell_ to that monster Gideon was someone who held considerable influence in society, maybe even a member of a royal house. What would they do then if that was the case?

Alfyn, ever the genial person, took it upon himself to break the silence. "So… want me to order us some food?"

Olberic nodded. "Yes, please. And something for Primrose too, she will be along shortly."

Standing up, Alfyn added, "I suppose I'll get something that'll appeal to all of us."

"It sounds like a solid plan," replied Olberic. Upon those words, Alfyn disappeared out of Olberic's sight, and towards the front counter to order food.

Now only thoughts and anxieties were Olberic's only company. Unfortunately, they were old friends at this point. For someone formerly so abundant in spirit, in recent years past it all felt less and less worth it as time went on. Why did he swing his blade? Truly, for what reason? Using the blade to stop Gideon was a fair and just reason for the moment, but once the threat of the dread magician was sorted, Olberic once again found himself holding a blood-soaked length of steel with little in the way of determined purpose. Such fleeting reasons weren't enough to live for. Something illusive, yet more close to the heart was desired, nay, necessary for the soul of a knight of fallen Hornburg. Those thoughts had plagued Olberic on a near-constant basis ever since his homeland was lost.

Indeed, because a few years' time is so fragile, so ephemeral, it arouses a bittersweet, almost heartbreaking fondness.

The greatest desire of Hornburg's most steadfast knight was a simple, small wish. All Olberic wanted was an answer, even if he had to fight for it. Even if drawing forth the blood of the wicked like in times gone by was needed, Olberic would not stop until the weary spirit of his blade and his soul was slaked. For now, all Olberic could do was fight for the hope of a response to his consciousness' pained pleas for reason.

Olberic was pulled out of his thoughts by the arrival of Primrose by his side. Looking over at her face, he felt a sense of relief wash over him slightly. At least it was nice to know that there were people just like him out there in the world, who fought to reclaim something from their past. Be it innocence lost or honor being reduced to mere words rather than action, the feelings were practically identical.

"I see that your morning ritual is finished," Olberic commented to Primrose.

"Oh? You like what you see?" teased Primrose.

Olberic gave a faint smile. "Your work every morning always pays off."

Leaning in playfully, Primrose said "I always do my best for repeat viewers."

As far as Olberic was concerned, Primrose was certainly doing her best already in making him feel a bit better about himself. The banter they shared together was always a consistent pilot light that always managed to ward away the darkness of self-doubt. If Alfyn provide Olberic the medicine for his body, Primrose gave him the medicine for his spirit.

"Speaking of viewers, where's Alfyn? He's usually always the first one up for breakfast," asked Primrose.

"Ah, he went to order something for us," replied Olberic.

Primrose nodded. "I see. In that case, I hope he gets something with actual taste. He orders that supposedly 'miraculously healthy' oat mix way too often in my opinion."

Olberic merely shrugged in reply. "I'll eat it regardless."

"I woulde too," came H'aanit's voice out of nowhere. That actually made Primrose jump a little in her seat in surprise.

"H'aanit!" the dancer exclaimed. "Do you take pleasure in scaring others like that?"

"Nay, although I suspecten Linde does," H'aanit said, scratching an ear of her snow leopard companion. Linde gave an affirmative growl at the comment.

H'aanit took a seat at the table, across from Olberic and Primrose. At her feet rested Linde, her faithful hunting companion. From the looks of it, the both of them were ready to be fed. No sooner than the both of them settled in, Alfyn came walking over to the table, carrying a large bowl of oatmeal in one hand, and balancing several bowls and spoons in the other. If he were to utilize those skills elsewhere, Alfyn would assuredly be a strong contender for joining a travelling troupe of jesters.

"A timely arrival, Alfyn," complimented Primrose.

Setting down everything on the table, Alfyn said, "I do my best to please!"

H'aanit wasted no time in grabbing bowls for herself and Linde, and filling them both up to the brim with hot oatmeal. As H'aanit and her leopard friend started immediately digging in, Alfyn, Olberic, and Primrose served themselves at a much more civilized speed.

"So, what beeth our plan today?" H'aanit asked between spoonfuls of food.

"Hmmmm," Olberic thought out loud. "I suppose we should make plans to leave once Cyrus' business here in Quarrycrest has ended. Although we should also ask Tressa if her business here has concluded as well."

"Poor girl, I doubt she'd even want to get out of bed today," observed Primrose glumly. The others nodded in agreement.

"Maybe we should make today a rest day," suggested Alfyn.

"I cannot agreen with thy suggestion," protested H'aanit. "My master dependen on me if he be in dangere. We must hasten."

"H'aanit, to be entirely fair, we're on the complete opposite end of Orsterra compared to Stonegard. It would take a while regardless. I don't see what harm there is in taking one extra day to resupply and recuperate," Alfyn argued.

H'aanit crossed her arms and gave a look at Alfyn. "If thou art worried about Tressa, I am sure she can enduren. If not, I shall taketh thee responsibility for the youngen."

"I don't think it would really work out that way," interjected Primrose. "And it really isn't your decision to make regardless."

Olberic grimaced slightly. So much for that brief moment of levity when Primrose arrived. Now he was just thrown back into the issues that Gideon had created, even after death. Nobody ever said that life would get easier, Olberic supposed.

"This hath already been a side excursion. We needn't spend more time in this accursen towne," firmly replied H'aanit.

"Can't you at least try to be more compassionate?" Primrose shot back at H'aanit, sounding a bit more heated.

"Okay, calm down, the both of you," stoutly stated Olberic. "It's early, and we don't need this to become an argument."

"Sir Olberic, what would thou suggesten? We simply waiten in this burgh?" H'aanit questioned.

"I'm merely requesting that we be considerate about the needs of our allies," calmly offered Olberic.

H'aanit wasn't exactly fully taken by that suggestion. "I do not meanen Tressa any harm, but 'tis a fool's logic to thinken that such manner of men shant crossen our path at some pointe. Tressa needeth to learne to move on."

"Not everyone is like you, H'aanit!" angrily interjected Primrose. "People can't just drop their baggage like they would a soiled handkerchief!"

"'Twas not my words, what you haven just suggesten," seethed H'aanit. "I maken no presumption that thy first real kill is not thy hardest. But that man-beast, Gideon, hath deserven a far crueler fate than the justice we serven unto him. Tressa needen to taketh such facts to heart."

"And what, give the poor girl a reward and a pat on the back? Because _sure_ , that would absolutely make her feel better," Primrose sarcastically lobbed in H'aanit's direction.

"Why do thou insisten on making me sounden mad?" growled H'aanit. By now Linde had stood up from her sitting position and looked ready to answer to her master's call for a fight, if need be.

Alfyn's gaze darted quickly between the arguing ladies of the group. "C'mon guys, can we please not do this in a public place?"

Olberic, on the other hand, didn't have the level of patience that Alfyn was displaying towards H'aanit and Primrose. Pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, he barked, "The both of you, _enough_!"

The sudden loud noise from Olberic was enough to stop H'aanit and Primrose, at least temporarily. Now was the best chance Olberic had to stop this disagreement from spiraling out of control. At that, he continued on.

"I know the both of you care about Tressa. Hells, all of us do. But how about we actually ask Tressa how she feels today before we jump to any conclusions? The only person who knows Tressa best is the girl herself. Now, is this something we can all agree on?"

Alfyn immediately raised his thumb in agreement. "You didn't need to convince me none, Sir Olberic."

H'aanit and Primrose both stared at each other in cold silence for an uncomfortable pause before Primrose broke the non-verbal stalemate.

"We check on poor Tressa first. If she wants to leave, we leave. Simple as that," said the dancer, not breaking her gaze from the hunter.

H'aanit decided to give in. "…Fine. But if we are to departen, I would preferen sooner than later. Around when the sun reachen halfway of its daily journey."

Clasping his hands together, Alfyn beamed one of his signature friendly smiles. "See! We can come together just like that!"

Alfyn's smile only wavered slightly when H'aanit wasted no time in getting up from the table and started to make her way towards the back where the rooms were. "Wait, where're you going?" asked the apothecary.

"Thou desired to asken Tressa her condition. I'm performing what thy requested. It shan't taketh long," the huntress bluntly replied.

Olberic and Primrose sighed. As strong as H'aanit was, that strength could also be channeled into some rather obtuse abrasiveness. Like any true hunter, once she had something set in her sights, nothing would stop her from getting what she wanted in the most pragmatic way possible. It was H'aanit's strength and weakness, sometimes.

Once the huntress was out of sight, Primrose groaned, "I just don't understand that woman sometimes…"

"People respond to hard stuff in different ways," offered Alfyn. "Some get quiet, some get angry, and some want none of it altogether."

"In any case, I might have to talk to her about it later," thought Olberic aloud. "Having this hanging over our heads isn't bound to be good for the group."

Primrose and Alfyn nodded along to what Olberic said. It was a reasonable enough of a suggestion. Any interpersonal conflicts would be best resolved with words, and preferably not in any way that involved an angry H'aanit and the fangs of Linde. With all a manner of different personalities in the caravan, they had better start making a habit of taking care of issues in an at least somewhat diplomatic manner.

However, before anyone could actually talk about the subject any quicker, H'aanit returned back to the table, except with a rather distressed-looking Ophilia in tow. From the looks of it, the cleric was in quite some panic. Her clothes looked hastily thrown on, with the buttons on the top of her cloak fastened into the wrong holes, and loosely tied travel boots causing her to speed-walk at a rather awkward gait. In her hand was a rumpled piece of paper, clutched tightly against her chest.

"Sir Olberic, Lady Primrose, Alfyn! Tressa's gone!" Ophilia declared.

"What?!" the collective table declared in shock.

Shaking the note in her hand, Ophilia explained, "Tressa left me this note, saying that she was meeting Therion for something out in town! We simply must find her!"

Olberic ran a hand through his hair. "That girl… what is she thinking, running off with only a note to tell us?"

"Guess that explains where Therion was this morning…" Alfyn mumbled to himself.

"Linde shall leaden us on this hunt," said H'aanit, resolute. "Linde can tracken scent with incredible skille."

Without asking, H'aanit snatched the note out of Ophilia's hand and held it down for Linde to sniff at. Once the snow leopard appeared to get a good whiff of Tressa's scent from the paper, the feline began to lazily head towards the door of the inn. Even just telling from Linde's body language, one could see that such a matter was like child's play to her.

"Quickly, we must follow Linde!" Ophilia said, following behind the snow leopard.

H'aanit was already beside Ophilia, taking larger strides to catch up to where Linde had made some ground away from the rest of the group. Olberic and Primrose weren't very far behind, quickly standing up from the table to join in the search for both Tressa and Therion. Alfyn, however, decided to quickly wolf down whatever was left in his breakfast bowl before leaving. He felt a solid lump form in his throat from a large glob of oatmeal that got stuck there. Giving his chest a few quick thumps, Alfyn more or less dislodged the blocked food as he tossed a handful of leaves on the table to pay for the interrupted meal.

"So much for breakfast…" Alfyn grumbled to himself.

 **XXX**

 **Now we're moving onto some action! I hope you're ready to get down to the heart of some issues that some characters are having, I swear we're getting there very soon. We just needed to get to that point, after all. Also, here's a fun game for you: find the reference to Now and There, Here and There in the chapter. Anyways, onwards!**

 **This is The Draigg, and I'm signing off on this chapter for now!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Wandering Not So Aimlessly**

 **And now we're back to Therion and Tressa! I hope you don't mind me switching viewpoints from chapter to chapter, but I feel that it pays off the best this way. Besides, we'll be seeing the rest of the Octopath Travelers soon enough. Anyways, onto Chapter 4!**

 **XXX**

Overall, things weren't so bad for Tressa or Therion after they had their little heart to heart conversation. If anything, Therion had actually underestimated Tressa's ability to bounce back from trauma. It was probably due to her youthful energy. Even if Therion was only a few years older than the girl at most, he certainly felt decades older compared to her. There was no doubt that such a life lived on the fringes of society all the time could mentally age someone beyond their years.

However, Therion was currently wishing that Tressa wasn't using her newfound elasticity and mental strength to nag the hells out of him as they wandered around Quarrycrest.

"C'mon, you have to apologize to Professor Albright too!" Tressa insisted.

"I don't _have_ to do anything. I'm a free man," Therion shot back. Tressa's reply to that was to grab Therion's wrist and display the Fool's Bangle to him. "You know what I meant," he then added.

"More like a mean man," was Tressa's snipe.

Therion rolled his eyes. "Wow, you'd think after all this time spent with adults, you'd actually pick up better insults. Or at least swears."

"I-I don't need to swear!" Tressa blanched. "If anything, I'm insulted that you'd think of me like that! I've seen a lot of foul-mouthed sailors in Rippletide!"

"Oh, really?" challenged Therion. "Then talk like one right now. Be like one of those salty sea-dogs that you've clearly learned from."

Tressa nervously scratched the side of her face. "Uhhhhhhh…"

"What, can't do it?" jeered Therion.

"Shut up, I can!" cried Tressa. Then, in a low volume of voice, she said, "You're a real arse, Therion."

Hearing that made Therion smirk slightly under his mouth-obscuring scarf. There was something pleasing about making such a bright and sunny girl swear for what had to be one of the first times in her life. "See? Doesn't it feel better saying that?"

"…Kinda," Tressa had to admit. "Wait a minute, you're trying to distract me!"

"Well, at least it worked for a minute," conceded Therion.

"Why won't you even apologize to Professor Albright, anyway?" Tressa couldn't help but ask. She just couldn't understand why Therion went out of his way to talk to her, yet wouldn't extend the same courtesy to Cyrus.

Therion racked his brain for the reasons not to talk to Cyrus in the same way he did for Tressa. There were the obvious answers, such as generally disliking his long-winded style of speech or not wanting to make a big deal out of what he had done. And there was also the fact that Cyrus bore more responsibility for them uncovering the horrors of Gideon's workshop, it being his investigation that did it after all.

But truly, the answer was that Therion didn't want to open himself like that again to Cyrus so soon. Tressa was easier to approach in that regard. She was younger and probably easier to please than Cyrus. That, and Therion did notice how badly she took everything compared to the dear professor. To him, Cyrus acted more like a man who found a bunch of rats in his pantry compared to the uncontrollably terrified Tressa, huddled in a corner vomiting up her breakfast. Therion just couldn't abide by the idea that someone from some fancy ivory-tower place like Atlasdam's academy would be so unresponsive to the carnage around him. That level of detachment was plain unsettling, and Therion was hesitant to get close to someone like that.

However, after thinking about all of that, Therion gave the curt response of "Don't care for it very much." Instead of the chastising that Therion expected, he suddenly found his hands grabbed and Tressa standing right in front of him.

"Well, I care," she stated, her brown eyes looking deep into Therion. "Professor Albright is our friend too, and we shouldn't leave him out."

"You're saying all that after he showed you a bloody dungeon?" Therion asked, slightly bewildered. It would be hard for a lot of people to call Cyrus a friend after that.

"Yeah, duh! If it wasn't for him, we'd probably be worse off!" explained Tressa. "Think about it! It wasn't just me who invested a lot of leaves into our group. Professor Albright put a lot of his tenure money into our journey! And that's not even getting to all the spells he knows how to use! He's an amazing sorcerer!"

Therion knew exactly how to counter those statements. "Well yeah, but he's not _that_ great. Remember the time he got us kicked out of Sunshade for talking around too much?"

Tressa clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "But we paid off that barkeeper to say good things about him, so it's all okay now!"

At that prompting, Therion put on his best impression of Cyrus. "Excuse me miss, but you weigh twenty-one stone, correct? That would explain your bust size."

Tressa couldn't help but laugh at the impression, which was pretty much the exact opposite of what Therion was going for. No matter what he brought up, it seemed like the merchant girl was determined to see the best in Cyrus and keep him around as a valued friend.

"You should do more impressions like that, Therion! They're great!" Tressa chuckled.

"But do you see what I'm getting at here?" he asked in reply.

Letting go of Therion's hands, Tressa then gave the thief a hearty pat on the back. "I'll admit that Professor Albright is a bit of an airhead sometimes, but we've gotta accept the bad with the good sometimes. Deep down, I know that he's a good person who's doing his best."

Therion then swiftly asked, "Oh? And what about me? You merchant types hate thieves."

"I won't lie and say that I approve of everything you do, Therion," said Tressa. "But I can tell that you've got some good in you. I think both merchants and thieves have a good eye for that kind of thing. We've both got to know for sure how much we trust people."

Therion scoffed. "Trust? There's not a lot of that in my line of work."

"Then don't think of it as work, think of it as being friends," offered Tressa. "You're my friend, Therion, and I know you see me as one too. You said so yourself."

Inwardly, Therion growled a little at his own words being turned against him. He was never fond of that feeling, and even less fond that it was starting to actually work on him.

Therion sighed with some frustration. "Look, I'm just not comfortable doing it, okay?" he admitted.

"Well, that's why you have me!" Tressa beamed. "C'mon, I'll help you cheer Professor Albright right up!"

"Wait, I—" Therion tried to protest, but was suddenly cut off by Tressa grabbing him by the hand and dragging him off towards whatever her goal was.

At that point, Therion just decided to resign himself to whatever Tressa had in store for him. She had won, and he just had to accept that. In some ways, that girl was much stronger than even Olberic, the Unbending Blade of Hornburg. And he was a guy who regularly flung himself in front of others to take a blow for them. Alas, nobody could withstand the might of a girl on a mission.

XXX

A short while later, Therion couldn't exactly say he was surprised that he found himself standing outside of Quarrycrest's general store. He could tell what kind of angle that Tressa was angling for. If he wasn't going to apologize with words, he would apologize to Cyrus with a gift. Money couldn't buy people love, but it certainly could buy some forgiveness.

"Now, what do you think Professor Albright would like?" Tressa asked Therion as the both of them walked inside the store.

"How should I know?" Therion asked back. "I've never asked the man for his likes and dislikes."

"Oh, it can't be _that hard_ ," Tressa commented as she idly browsed the shelves. "He likes books and writing materials. If I were to sell him anything, I would offer him something along those lines."

Going along with that suggestion, Therion wandered over to the shelves with stationary materials on it and looked at what was for sale. He couldn't help but raise a few eyebrows at some of the prices for the goods. It seemed as if that the prices for everything in the store hadn't gone down ever since Morlock got ran out of town. Therion could easily tell that the price of these goods were marked up significantly, at least by 60% according to some quick math he did in his head. The amount of leaves needed for a particular pen set was particularly egregious. For the price of that admittedly nice pen, he could have a solid week of drinking nothing but mid-to-high shelf liquor offered at most taverns.

"You see this crap, Tressa?" Therion called over to his companion. He ignored the snide comments that the storekeeper made at Therion's outburst in favor of looking at the merchant walk over.

Picking up the pen set, Tressa looked it over with appraising eyes. "Oooh, flashy yet elegant. Solid metal grip too. But yeah, this is more expensive than something similar I could get even in Rippletide."

"Got any ideas for cheaper options?" Therion asked.

Tressa got a sudden glint in her eyes. "Nah, this'll be fine! Now watch a professional at work!"

As if possessed with a sudden capitalist spirit, Tressa turned and strode towards the counter of the store, which the storekeeper stood behind. The shopkeeper didn't look too pleased to see them holding that rather expensive pen set.

"Oh what, now it isn't crap?" the shopkeeper commented.

"No, no! I think you've got a quality product on your hands!" said Tressa, charisma starting to ooze from her lips. "But I think we can arrange a more agreeable price."

"The price is staying as its labeled," the storekeeper firmly stated.

"I think we can shave off… I dunno, a hundred leaves?" suggested Tressa.

"Not doing it," said the storekeeper.

"How about ninety?" haggled Tressa.

The storekeeper shook his head. "Nope."

"Eighty-five," pushed Tressa further.

"Can't do that either."

"Eighty?"

"What part of 'no' don't you get?"

"I can do this all day," Tressa bragged. She knew she caught the storekeeper in her capitalistic web. His patience was on the ropes.

The storekeeper sighed in frustration. "Look, I can shave off sixty leaves, but that's it, alright?"

At that, Tressa slammed down a handful of leaves from her money purse onto the sales counter. "You've got a deal!"

Grumbling, the storekeeper accepted the discounted price for the pen set and gave Tressa an agitated glare. Not that Tressa really cared, she got what she wanted. Beaming, she handed over the pen set to Therion to carry.

"Now _that's_ how a merchant haggles," said Tressa, her smile growing wider. "And don't worry about the price, you can pay me back later."

"I didn't ask about payment options, but thanks anyway, I guess," Therion vaguely thanked Tressa, tucking away the pen set in his poncho.

"Now, to find Professor Albright!" Tressa declared. "…I wonder where he is?"

"Hey, it was your plan for me to apologize to him, you figure it out," bluntly stated Therion.

Upon hearing those words, Tressa got behind Therion and started to push him out of the front door of the store, despite the protests he started hurling back in her direction. "Hey, it's _our_ plan, and you're taking the lead!" Tressa insisted.

Once outside, Tressa dusted off her hands with a satisfied look on her face while Therion straightened out his poncho. "Remind me how you managed to drag me into this?" the thief questioned.

"My stunning charm and wit?" Tressa offered back.

"I think it's you more being literally pushy than anything," commented Therion.

Tressa moved her hand in a wobbly, non-committal gesture. "Eh, it's probably fifty-fifty."

"More than that," Therion huffed as he shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Anyways," Tressa transitioned, "back to the point, we should probably get going to deliver Professor Albright's new pen. Now, where would he be?"

Therion scoffed, "Isn't it obvious? He literally only has one friend in this dusty town. That one Odette lady. I wouldn't put it past him to head over there for a book club or something."

"You mean talk about that one book that he found yesterday," corrected Tressa.

"Practically the same thing," retorted Therion.

"Except without the tea and biscuits," Tressa pointed out. "Speaking of which, I haven't had breakfast today. We should get something on the way."

Therion shook his head. "Nah, we'll get something on the way back. Let's just get this whole gift thing out of the way and then we'll see from there". What Therion didn't add to the end of that sentence was that he hoped that Cyrus might spot him some money for food, since Therion himself didn't want to pay for anything himself.

"Sounds good to me! Now let's get over to Odette's!" declared Tressa before setting down the road once again.

Therion only allowed himself a small defeated sigh as he followed Tressa along the street. At the end of that whole experience, all he came away with was wondering how Tressa was able to sweep him up into some grand apologetic gesture like this so easily. If there was one thing for sure, it was that the merchant girl's magnetic personality was undeniable, even to someone as wearily experienced in the ways of the world such as himself.

 **XXX**

 **I hope you all liked this chapter! It's always nice to have some levity every once in a while. You can't be too depressive or serious all the time, otherwise it just becomes too heavy and unbearable to continue. Besides, it's very natural-feeling to write Tressa in such a way. She's just a fun character to write once she's back closer to her normal self. Anyways, it's time for me to stop prattling on here, and get onto the next chapter.**

 **This is The Draigg, and I'm signing off for this chapter!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Insightful Discussion**

 **It's time to spend some time with a character we haven't heard as much from yet: Cyrus! Yes, this chapter is mainly focused on everyone's favorite semi-clueless scholar and magical powerhouse. He's a fun character to write for, kind of like Tressa in that regard. The both of them just have some special energy about them that's great to imagine and formulate narratives around. Anyway, enough of my ramblings about writing, let's get to the story!**

 **XXX**

Cyrus took a sip of the tea that Odette had prepared for him. She had put it out on a saucer for him shortly after he arrived, as she was already brewing a kettle for herself. But as he had come into her abode already talking about the discoveries he'd made about the book he had found on Gideon, he had let it sit the entire time. Now it was only slightly lukewarm at best.

Swallowing the bitter, cold drink Cyrus couldn't help but apologize for his poor manners. "I'm terribly sorry for letting your tea settle, Odette. I'm sure it tasted great while warm."

Odette shrugged. "Eh, it's alright. I really wouldn't have expected anything else from you regardless."

"Expectations can be deceiving," Cyrus mused. "I don't think anyone could have honestly expected a dark sorcerer to be living in the catacombs of this town, for example."

"True," agreed Odette. "But in hindsight, it makes complete sense. This town has so many transient laborers that nothing would be amiss if it looked like they had just left for work elsewhere. Where Gideon thankfully failed was that he was getting too greedy and started kidnapping in broad daylight."

Cyrus nodded. "Greed is the downfall of man across time. I will admit that seeing that man's greed for knowledge and power is no new experience for me."

Odette knew exactly who Cyrus was referring to. "Good ol' Headmaster Yvon," she chuckled wryly.

"I am fairly certain that he hasn't even read some of the rare books he so proudly keeps in the university's collection," Cyrus sighed. "To think one would spend so much money on such tomes only to keep them as glorified decorations…"

"In all fairness, it's a large collection," said Odette.

"All the more reason to read all of it, my dear," replied Cyrus.

Cyrus sighed again and took another sip of his cold tea. He briefly grimaced at the cold bitterness, but he had already set his mind on finishing the cup. It would be rude to otherwise discard of such simple hospitality.

"I hope I finish the entire collection before I die," Cyrus admitted. "Call it a selfish wish, bit I don't think I would be able to forgive myself for not reading as much as I could before shuffling off this mortal coil."

That made Odette chuckle again. "Oh, Cyrus. That desire is completely _you_."

"To be honest, dear Odette, this whole experience has given me a lot to think about," the scholar further admitted. "To see such cruelty at the hands of man… heavens, thank goodness I was more cut out to be an academic than a soldier! Even studying the anatomy could not fully prepare me for seeing viscera laid bare in such a manner."

Odette frowned slightly. It was clear on her face that she was concerned for her acquaintance's mental state. "Hey now, Cyrus. You may not have the body of a soldier, but you have the heart of one. You brought justice upon Gideon, and you have mine and Quarrycrest's thanks for it."

Cyrus gave out a weak chortle. "You're aware of the knight in my party, yes? Sir Olberic Eisenberg."

Odette simply nodded.

"He was the one who killed Gideon, not I. He crushed that vile man's head under his grip. I could have never done something like that… Does it sound bad that deep down, I was glad that he did? So that I wouldn't have to do it?" Cyrus continued.

Pursing her lips, Odette said, "I… That's a very loaded question to ask, Cyrus. I mean, for our line of work, we never signed up to kill others. But at the same time, there's no denying that Gideon's death was the objectively and morally right thing to do."

Cyrus silently sipped on his cold tea, mulling over Odette's reasoning. She certainly did have a point. As loathe to admit as it was, killing someone in this case was a good thing. A great thing, even. But Cyrus never wanted to be involved in this kind of scenario, despite his courage in facing it. Before he had set out on his journey with the other travelers, the closest thing he had to weapon experience was handling paper-cutting equipment. Yes, it was good that Gideon was killed, but the fact remained that a seed of cancerous doubt was lodged firmly in Cyrus' heart. Was he truly cut out for this journey, if it meant that he had to wade deep in violence, blood, and chaos? Could he handle it, even if he had trustworthy companions by his side?

"If you were in the same position as me, would you do the same?" Cyrus asked.

There was a prolonged beat of silence that lingered after the question.

"Look, I'm going to be honest here, Cyrus," replied Odette finally. "I'd be scared out of my wits if I was in your position. But really… I have no idea. I don't have any scrying abilities to see how I would do. All I can say is that I'm glad that you did what you did."

Cyrus finished off what was left of his tea. "I think all of us were scared down there, even if we didn't show it. Poor Tressa…"

"Tressa?" inquired Odette.

"The young merchant lass who is traveling with me. I feel so terrible about bringing her along into those catacombs… I sincerely hope that she forgives me… She never should have seen those horrors…" lamented Cyrus. He could feel some sympathetic tears start to well up at the corners of his eyes. He quickly wiped them away with the cuffs of his shirt.

"Cyrus…"

"I-I'm truly sorry to be in such a state inside your home, Odette," apologized Cyrus. "To place this emotional burden on you so suddenly wasn't my intention…"

Cyrus froze at the sudden feeling of contact. Odette had walked over and put her hands on his shoulders in a reassuring way. It was… nice.

"Cyrus, you fool," reassured Odette, "if I wasn't open with my heart, this investigation would have never happened. I care about the people of Quarrycrest. And I certainly care about you. So don't apologize for being yourself."

"I… I don't know what to say, Odette," sputtered Cyrus in mild shock. This was easily the most honest and open Odette had ever been with him.

"You don't have to say anything to me. But if you truly do feel bad about Tressa, then perhaps you should be there for her. And probably the rest of your group, for that matter. I'm sure they need you as much as you need me right now," said Odette.

"I know, I know," responded Cyrus. "But still, it suddenly feels very hard to show myself in front of them. I feel as if I brought a calamity upon them."

Odette scoffed a bit. "Oh please, the blame lays on my head alone. I asked you to investigate, therefore the burden of your discovery is mine."

Cyrus sighed. "I'm well aware, Odette. It's just that this irrational feeling has me in a vice grip that I cannot escape."

"Then do what I said and talk to them," advised Odette. "It's a simple of a start as that."

Before he could protest further, Cyrus could feel Odette push him out of his chair, forcing him to stand up. Then, with a gentle hold, she began to guide him towards the front door of her house.

"Go talk to them, and then come back to me later," Odette said.

"But what about the book?" Cyrus asked, confused?

Odette replied, "We'll talk about it later, now go!"

At that, Odette opened her door and pushed Cyrus out onto the road. Slightly miffed, Cyrus straightened out his cloak and leaned his back against the wall of the house.

There was no denying in Cyrus' mind that Odette was completely right. All it took to alieve his worries was to actually talk to the people he couldn't help but feel like he damaged in some way. As the common platitude went, a journey of a thousand miles began with a single step. But it was just that, a platitude, a common folk saying. It was much easier to say such things than actually do it. If anything, Cyrus would rather take walking the thousand miles than confront his guilt. There it was, that doubt and guilt pulsating within his very being.

Feeling any vestige of will within him failing, Cyrus slowly started to walk away from Odette's house. He idly kicked at a loose pebble in the road. Cyrus hadn't felt like this since some of his earlier academic blunders from over a decade ago, such as accidentally leaving ink stains on an expensive treatise on the religious customs of the Flatland's eight founding tribes, or the time he and a few graduate students had drank a little too much at the function intended to celebrate getting their diplomas. There were still occasionally stories being told about the "party tricks" he had pulled with one of the stuffed animals that the anthropology department used to have on display, in spite his attempts to play down the tales.

" _I must look like a dejected wretch…"_ Cyrus thought to himself as he continued walking. He hated feeling in such a manner. Yet again, there was hardly anyone out there who actually liked it. Still, Cyrus couldn't help but start to feel annoyed at how depressed he was feeling. And that in turn just fueled his sadness even further. It was a vicious cycle of self-loathing.

Normally, Cyrus would turn to his books to cheer him up. However, he neither had access to or the time to read his normal collection. He had to leave most of his preferred literature back at his quarters in Atlasdam. And it was also feeling certain to him that his companions wanted to leave Quarrycrest as soon as possible. Therion made that feeling rather clear last night.

As it stood, there was really only one other thing that Cyrus could think of that could possibly lift his spirits: copious amounts of ale, or whatever liqueur the local tavern keeper had on the shelf. Cyrus didn't want to make a habit out of day drinking, especially this early in the morning, but this case felt like an exception. Perhaps some brandy could thoroughly drown any depression lingering in him.

With that decision in mind, Cyrus changed his course down the road and turned off the main avenue, to reach where he could leave his woes at the bottom of a bottle.

XXX

It wasn't long before Cyrus found himself sitting at a bar, staring at the glass of brandy he had just been served. Thankfully, the bar wasn't very full at this time of the day, as it should be. Nobody would be around to see Cyrus wallow in his own guilt and dejection.

With almost mechanical movements, Cyrus took a sip of his drink and placed the glass back down on the counter. He could feel the stinging fire of the alcohol make its way down his gullet. Not that it would do him that much good, however. Cyrus always had a very strong tolerance to alcoholic beverages, provided that he took his time downing it. It would take more than just a tumbler of booze to have any real effect on his being.

"Well, since I'm taking my time…" Cyrus muttered to himself as he took his notebook out of his cloak. At least it was something to read while he paced himself.

He opened the book and started to flip the pages, looking for an area to go over. Most of the time as of late, he had been using the spells he memorized and the put down to paper in battle. His spellcraft had proven to be most useful in the various encounters he and the party had been having along the trail, mainly wild animals or beast-men that they happened to catch in either a foul or territorial mood. In combat alone, this book of his was Cyrus' most valuable asset.

However, he had also taken to filling the pages of his notebook with observations of various things he had been encountering on his journey. Cyrus had all a manner of curio on the paper, such as tales of life in Hornburg that Olberic had shared with him, various herbal remedies gleamed from Alfyn, and his own personal analysis of H'aanit's speech patterns and how they evolved from the older Orsterra tongue. Cyrus was interested in publishing a paper on that last topic in particular in the future, as the language drift that H'aanit and her people exhibited was truly fascinating. He would have to press the topic of her speech education later, once all of this was behind the group a fair amount.

A feeling of pure irony hit Cyrus at that moment. There he was, thinking of analyzing the nature of language and talking, and yet he couldn't bring himself to actually talk to his party of travelers when he actually needed to. If one of the gods had a sense of humor, Cyrus was sure that they were at least getting a good laugh at his expense. A scholar who was normally verbose who lacked the fortitude to truly speak to someone in a moment of need.

Hoping to take his mind off of such a cruel celestial joke, Cyrus flipped the pages again to look over some other notes. As he started to read one of his earlier notes about the mineral extraction techniques needed for the ore mined here in Quarrycrest, he took a stiff draught of his brandy. It didn't help that there was a large presence of skystone in his notes, which only served to remind him of his failure he felt towards Tressa. There was no doubt in his mind that her eyes would gleam as brightly as skystone ever again.

Cyrus clicked his tongue in frustration as he closed the journal and tucked it back into his cloak pocket. The guilt just kept on pouring and pouring out of him in such a rate that he couldn't help but feel its sheer oppression in everything.

Now _that_ feeling was starting to deeply frustrate him. It was so stupid to be this sad! He knew the solution, he just needed to do it! It couldn't be that hard to talk to someone. Yes, it would be very, very, very uncomfortable to do so. There was no denying that. But Cyrus was braver than this! Where was the courage he felt when he initially explored the catacombs underneath Quarrycrest and fought the beasts that Gideon formed to guard his secrets?

The sadness in Cyrus' gut was started to be replaced by a burning anger. He was no simpering milksop! He had a degree! He had fought brigands and all a manner of monster on his journey! If he could set his mind to it, there was nothing Cyrus couldn't do!

" _Yes, I may be weak and frail with emotions… but I can overcome that weakness! If I can serve alongside Sir Olberic, H'aanit, and all the others, I can surely do this as well!_ " the newly determined scholar thought to himself. No, it wasn't a thought, it was a pledge.

Cyrus picked up his tumbler of brandy and downed it all in one gulp. Slamming the glass back down on the counter, he stood up and threw back his cloak. He was feeling more ready than ever to face his demons head on!

With a hurried tossing of leaves on the counter and with a sweeping swish of his cloak, Cyrus hurried his way out of the tavern. Yes, this was his opportunity to make things right with everyone else! Now, all he had to do was get back to them and lay it all out!

 **XXX**

 **I hope you enjoyed this look into Cyrus! I know that I've certainly been in his position before, where you're so sad that you get angry, and that anger fuels you to do the right thing and smooth things over. It's an odd, yet powerful feeling. Anyways, now that everyone is out and about, them coming together in a crash of righteous desire is only inevitable. Stay tuned for the next chapter!**

 **This is The Draigg, and I'm signing off of this chapter for now!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: Confronting It All**

 **Sorry for the delay with this chapter! Although if you're reading this in the future, it won't matter much to you at all. Just be aware that it took some time for me to get back to writing this story. Anyways, enough with keeping the delay going with this pre-chapter message, let's get to it!**

 **XXX**

In hindsight, of course it was going to be hard for Therion and Tressa to find Cyrus. Odette in particular wasn't very helpful, since after closing the door on them the first time they arrived on her doorstep, all she had to offer them in terms of directions when she opened the door again was that Cyrus had just wandered somewhere down the street after she all but kicked him out. Both the merchant and the thief had wished that they had gotten there about a half-hour earlier, since now they'd have to either wait somewhere for Cyrus to show up again, or go looking around the entire town of Quarrycrest for him.

Tressa and Therion sat on a ledge overlooking the lower parts of Quarrycrest as they weighed their options.

"I mean, we're out here already, so we wouldn't be really missing out on anything if we keep on looking," argued Tressa.

Therion clicked his tongue. "But if he's off gods-know-where walking around, we may just end up walking in circles around each other and never finding him."

"Hey, if there's one thing I know about making up with someone, it's that you have to put some effort into it," Tressa said. "Besides, for all we know, we'll just run into him out of nowhere!"

"That's your assumption, anyway," commented Therion.

"I don't see any evidence to disprove it!" was Tressa's chipper response.

Therion sighed. He simply couldn't argue with that kind of hopeful energy. Besides, it wasn't like Tressa wasn't already dragging him all around the town so far today. As nice as it was to entertain the idea of just calling the day early and loafing around at the inn until everyone came back for the day, he knew that Tressa wouldn't let that fantasy become a reality. She was like a boulder; once she got rolling, there was no real stopping her momentum.

"Fine, fine," he groaned. At that, he stood up and brushed the dust off of the seat of his pants. Then, offering a hand to help up Tressa, Therion added, "But if we don't find him before lunch, we're heading back to the inn. Or the tavern, I could go for an ale."

Tressa pulled herself up with Therion's arm. "Yeah, I guess a lunch break is reasonable enough."

Therion looked up at the position of the sun in the sky. "I'd say that gives us about an hour or so, give or take," he commented.

"More than enough time to find the professor!" Tressa chimed in.

As the pair started walking down the road, Therion half-joked, "What're the chances that he fell down a mine shaft somewhere? It's entirely possible that he did."

"What, are you worried about Professor Albright now, Mr. Stoic-Tough-Guy?" Tressa teased.

"Pfft, not as much as you're making out," replied Therion. "But it certainly would be inconvenient if he were to die right about now."

Tressa nodded. "Yeah, he's a valuable part of the team for sure."

"It's also the fact that I don't know where to sell his stuff if he kicked the bucket. I don't know very many fences around here," Therion clarified. That got him an elbow to the ribs from Tressa. It wasn't an entirely undeserved one.

"I highly doubt that Professor Albright, or anyone in the group for that matter, is going to die any time soon," responded Tressa.

Therion shrugged. "You never know, stuff just happens to people out of nowhere. Like, what if I were to get struck down suddenly in the middle of the street?"

It was at that exact, ironically-timed moment that Therion was then tackled to the ground by a bright white snow leopard. Tressa couldn't help but squeak in shock a little at how right Therion had proven his point. That, and the large cat just attacking her friend out of nowhere. More likely the second point than the first.

"Linde hath founden him!" the both of them heard H'aanit say in the distance.

Pinned helplessly underneath the full weight of Linde, Therion could only sigh. "I guess I should've figured that this'd happen eventually…"

As H'aanit jogged up to the now surprised pair, Tressa couldn't help but scold the huntress a bit. "What's the big idea, huh H'aanit? Linde isn't supposed to tackle anyone in the party like that!"

"'Tis Linde's instinct," was H'aanit's excuse. "Once she trackens her prey, 'tis only natural that she would taken Therion downeth. Now, comen here girl."

At her partner's beckoning, Linde calmly walked off of Therion's back and returned to the side of H'aanit. Therion picked himself up, dusting all the street dirt off of the front of his poncho. "Are we gonna start having problems now?" he dryly asked H'aanit.

"I do not see a needen to adden to thy current list," H'aanit replied.

"Ha-ha. This is why you're single," was Therion's biting rebuke. That comment got him another elbow to the side courtesy of Tressa. Given how he had just been tackled by Linde, that one hurt more than the previous one. As he was rubbing his sore side, Therion then noticed the rest of his traveling party (minus Cyrus) running to catch up with H'aanit. "I guess everyone's here now."

Surely enough, Olberic, Ophilia, Alfyn, and Primrose caught up with everyone else standing around. Olberic and Primrose barely looked out of breath after running after H'aanit and Linde. The same, however, could not be said of Alfyn and Ophilia. The cleric girl was leaning fully on her staff, catching her breath. Alfyn was hunched over, huffing and puffing heavily. "Aww geez… shouldn't… have eaten… before running…" Alfyn groaned between gasps for air.

"Therion!" boomed Olberic. "What is the meaning of spiriting off Tressa like this?"

"Well, we _were_ having an alright morning before I had a walking rug crash into me," sneered Therion. That got him a cold glare from Linde, befitting a snow leopard.

Thankfully, before things could escalate, Tressa decided to step in and explain things properly. "What Therion _means_ to say is that we actually spent some quality time together this morning. I'm sorry if I scared you all!"

"Oh? How so?" asked Primrose with a raised eyebrow.

"We just talked things out," said Therion. "Is it so hard to believe that I felt somewhat bad after last night?"

There was a momentary pause from the assembled group.

"You know what? Don't answer that," Therion added.

Picking up after that, Tressa continued, "So we got to talking, and decided to get Professor Albright a gift as an apology for the way Therion acted towards him. Right, Therion?"

Therion nodded. "Yeah."

Walking up to Therion, Alfyn gave the thief a solid clap on the shoulder. "Well shucks, I guess we ought ta owe ya an apology too, Therion! Sorry if we all assumed the worst about you 'n Tressa."

"Indeed," said Olberic. "It reflects poorly on us to track you based on such an assumption."

"Well, you guys seem to get over your mistakes quickly," observed Therion. "But, I suppose that I can't exactly look a gift horse in the mouth."

Having regained her stamina, Ophilia walked up to Therion's side. "Here, let me heal you up. It's the least I can do after having you get knocked around by Linde." Raising her open hand, Ophilia chanted "Bring about the miracle of healing!" as a shimmering light briefly enveloped Therion's body.

In an instant, that sore feeling he had completely vanished. It was nice to have someone who could perform instant healing in the party. Therion had to admit that it was certainly better than having to chug whatever Alfyn threw together in the heat of battle. Sure, it was effective stuff, but for some reason Alfyn's potions and poultices always left Therion's mouth numb or with a bad taste. Turns out there was some truth in the old adage that if something tastes bad, it's good for you.

"Thanks, Ophilia," murmured Therion. The cleric merely gave him a warm smile in response.

Tressa then spoke up. "Hey, you guys wouldn't have happened to see Professor Albright around, have you? We want to give him his apology gift."

"No, I can't say that any of us have," Primrose stated. "I'm assuming you've already checked Odette's home?"

"Yeah, but apparently he left before we arrived," added Therion.

Upon hearing that, H'aanit crouched down beside Linde and gave her a scratch behind the ears. "I believen that Linde can finden the Professor with minor effort," she offered.

"Oh, good idea!" Tressa exclaimed. "Linde should be able to sniff him out in no time! …Wait, does she even have a scent of Professor Albright to track?"

H'aanit gave a slightly cheeky smile at Tressa's question. "Linde is liken no other when it comens to scent. She hath memorized liketh I: the Professor hath an odor of cologne, silken robes, and liquor."

Therion couldn't help but build a tease off of what H'aanit said. "Oh, memorized his smell, have we? Are you _infatuated_ with it, H'aanit?"

The sudden jest caught H'aanit off guard for once. "I—What dost thou imply?!" she cried, visibly flustered. That made Therion cackle a bit from the expression on her face.

"Okay, that priceless look is a good apology," the thief said, smugly grinning.

H'aanit's flustered look quickly morphed to a visage of cold unpleasantness as she glared at Therion. "Just rememberen, thief, I knoweth where thou sleepen," she threatened.

Therion rolled his eyes slightly. "I could make a comment out of that too, but then we'd just be wasting time here," he flatly stated.

"That's probably the most sensible thing I've ever heard you say, Therion," commented Primrose.

"He certainly is correct," Olberic added with a nod. "H'aanit, set Linde on the scent so we can find the Professor sooner than later, if you would be so kind."

H'aanit kneeled next to Linde and began to stroke her partner's fur as she talked. "Dost thou knowen thy target, Linde?"

The snow leopard gave a short growl, which H'aanit acted like it meant "yes".

"Very well, girl. Finden the Professor, and we shallen follow!" H'aanit commanded.

With a flick of her feline head, Linde set off back onto the street, apparently having already caught onto the lingering scent of Cyrus and tracking the smell line. H'aanit was characteristically right behind her hunting partner, having no issues keeping pace with her.

"Oh come on!" Alfyn groaned under his breath as he started to jog after H'aanit. He and Ophilia were still rather winded from arriving to where Tressa and Therion were, so they were already starting to lag behind the others, who were currently doing their best to keep up with the long-legged huntress.

"H'aanit, wait up!" Ophilia cried, fruitlessly waving her holy stave after H'aanit. It was a rather vain attempt to flag her attention to slow down.

Regardless of all of the cries of Alfyn and Ophilia and their near-helpless flailing about, the group of travelers charged ahead, some handling it better than others.

One would normally think that all the running the group did in all the various forests, dungeons, and other locales would prepare them for this, but when one gets down to it, there's a great amount of difference between running from monsters and charging towards their current quest's target, than there was trying to keep up with a leopard who very well knows your limits, yet doesn't care very much about them. Such was life in Orsterra, in some odd way. In fact, one could try to find something insightful about the state of man in such an example of nature. Not that it would do any aspiring oracles or currently-on-vacation scholars any good, but they could try them regardless. They would simply just deserve the ridicule they would get in return if they tried.

 **XXX**

 **And there you have it! Fortunately for everyone involved, more rational minds prevailed, and the group was quick to recognize their folly in thinking Therion did anything bad to Tressa. They've been traveling together for a while, after all, so expedited conflict resolution would be expected after being stuck together for a bit. Anyways, all that's left now is to put the final touches on this emotional conflict once and for all. We'll be seeing that next for sure.**

 **Until next time, this is The Draigg, and I'm signing off for now!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: Revelations on a Dusty Road**

 **Here we go, we're finally back to Cyrus' part of the story! Now that the group issues involving Tressa and Therion have been more or less resolved, there's only one piece of the puzzle left. And that piece just so happens to be a lanky academic who can drink even the finest knights under the table. So, without any further delay, let's get to it!**

 **XXX**

It didn't take much observation and knowledge on Cyrus' part to know that he was lost.

As it turned out, just running off around the town with a goal in mind wasn't a good substitute for a plan. In his burning desire to set things right with the party, Cyrus had completely neglected to actually think of where to look for them. When he had passed by the inn, they weren't there, so it was only natural to search elsewhere. However, Cyrus didn't have any idea _where_ elsewhere was.

Cyrus wiped his brow and looked around. In his wanderings, he had somehow managed to walk out of the official Quarrycrest town limits and made his way onto the road that led to Morlock's Manse. Well, formerly Morlock's Manse. Cyrus wasn't sure if anyone owned it now that Morlock had fled town with his entire wait staff. Maybe the property would be confiscated by some royal official or the local shire reeve and put to some better use. Perhaps it would be converted to some kind of helpful public service building, like a hospital or a library. If there was one thing that Cyrus knew for sure, it was that the world could always use more libraries.

"Oh, now I'm just getting nowhere," Cyrus sighed to himself as he looked at the building in the distance. Libraries and property rights were less pressing concerns at the moment than trying to regain his honor amongst his peers.

As Cyrus continued to tread down the dusty dirt road, it suddenly occurred to him how hot he was starting to feel. It was starting to reach noon, and the temperature of the Cliftlands was starting to pick up. As much as Cyrus liked his custom-tailored black cloak, he had to admit that it was garb ill-suited for the region. Therion probably had the most appropriate clothing for the area, given that it was just a poncho that he wore on his torso. A black cloak made out of wool was insane by comparison. And, to make matters even worse, it was getting really dusty around the fringes.

Now that Cyrus thought about it, his poor cloak had been through a lot over the past few days. Between all the sewer water, blood, and dust that had collected on it, it could use a nice washing. Wait, blood?

Cyrus pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. How the hell could he be complaining about the blood on his cloak when he knew exactly where it came from? It was a horrible reduction of the Gideon incident to just think about the minor effects of what happened. The very inkling that he was capable of thinking in such a manner just angered Cyrus again. Angrily, he kicked a stone off the road and into the bushes.

Suddenly, some very angry screeching came from the direction of the kicked stone as some Cliff Birdians flew out from the underbrush. Unfortunately for Cyrus, the rock had landed dangerously close to the nest of the Cliff Birdians. And given how swiftly they were diving towards Cyrus, they couldn't have been too pleased by that.

Internally, Cyrus started to panic. Judging from the plumage of these Cliff Birdians, these were the types that had a particular weakness towards swords, spears, axes, and light magic. In other words, none of the things that Cyrus had any skill in. Normally, it was Tressa and Olberic that fended them off with their spears while Ophilia cast light magic spells from a safer distance. If Cyrus was going to fight the Cliff Birdians off with the skills he had learned, it was going to be a harder fight than normal. Taking a defensive spellcasting stance, Cyrus steeled himself for the oncoming battle. It was a matter of life or death now.

"Come! A tempest of ice!" Cyrus cried. From unto him, a cold gale of frost and ice was unleashed upon the Cliff Birdians.

The Cliff Birdians were temporarily taken aback by the ice spell. It had apparently done some damage, as the Cliff Birdians were forced to temporarily land to shake out the ice that was lodged into their bodies and wings. The icicles had left some deep gouges in their bodies, but they were still willing to fight. After that moment of reprieve, the Cliff Birdians once again flew upwards, before coming down on Cyrus with a furious series of claws and blows.

As much as Cyrus tried to defend himself from the attack, the Cliff Birdians managed to scratch him up to a painful degree. The cuts on the backs of Cyrus' arms stung from all the cuts due to his reflexive blocking stance. And that was in addition to the few strikes that had managed to get some gashes on his face. If he made it out of this fight in once piece, Cyrus would definitely have to take up either Alfyn or Ophilia on their healing services.

It was now Cyrus' turn to strike back. Since the Cliff Birdians were fairly near to him now, his magic spells would be rather risky to use in such close quarters. Instead, Cyrus had to resort to a physical attack. Grabbing a good length of wood that was lying on the side of the road, Cyrus targeted the Cliff Birdian that was the closest to him and swung the branch with a fair amount of might.

Fortunately for Cyrus, the one that was near him happened to be the Cliff Birdian that had gotten most of the brunt of the ice spell., as evidenced by the gaping, bloody holes in its wings. The Cliff Birdian let out a painful squawk as the stick smashed into the side of its head, before crumpling down to the ground, badly injured. Cyrus allowed himself only a small feeling of triumph before focusing his attention on the other approaching Cliff Birdian.

As Cyrus braced himself for the oncoming blow, he suddenly heard a roar and felt a large creature leap past him. To his incredulous shock, Linde the snow leopard had come out of nowhere to tackle the Cliff Birdian out of the air.

Looking at the snow leopard gorily rip out the throat of the Cliff Birdian, Cyrus could only confusedly ask, "Linde? Where is your master, girl?"

He immediately got his answer as Cyrus heard H'aanit's battle cry as she came rushing to his side, wielding her hunter's axe in hand. Raising the heavy weapon over her head, H'aanit then brought down the axe on the head of the other Cliff Birdian. Needless to say, the end result was a messy splatter of blood, skull fragments, and brain tissue.

Turning on her heel, H'aanit gave the befuddled Cyrus a quick scan with her eyes. "Thou art injured," she flatly stated.

"How did you find me?" Cyrus asked. "I've been looking around for you and the others."

H'aanit couldn't help but smirk slightly. "Linde hath an excellent memory when it cometh to scents," she lightly boasted.

Then, dropping her small smile, H'aanit wiped off some blood that had been dripping from a miniscule cut on Cyrus' face. Cyrus couldn't help but blush a bit at the physical contact. He wasn't used to women touching his face. And it was even a little surprising that a woman as strong as H'aanit could feel his cheek so gently. He could only assume that H'aanit's regular use of a hunting bow had trained her fingers quite nicely.

Pushing past the sudden awkward feeling, Cyrus managed to then ask, "Did anyone else from the party follow you here?"

H'aanit nodded. "Aye. Alas, they aren't as fleeten of foot as Linde and I."

Cyrus hummed in agreement. "Naturally. Your body has quite the amount of lean muscle on it. I'm sure you're used to a lot of physicality."

That comment made H'aanit crook her head slightly. "Haven thou been observing mine body closely?"

"N-no, not at all!" Cyrus sputtered. "I don't mean to come across as some lewd carouser!"

"…Goode. Nor haven I observeth thy body," responded H'aanit, now sounding just as awkward as Cyrus. Linde could only give a long blink at the uncomfortable air between her two human companions before going back to dining on the corpse of the Cliff Birdian.

One short moment that felt painfully long later, the rest of the traveling group came rushing down the road. Or, in the case of Alfyn and Ophilia, it was more like their feet were somehow dragging the rest of their bodies down the path. Alfyn could be heard huffing and puffing loudly, clearly out of breath. As for Ophilia, the poor girl's face was as pale as her white cleric's robes.

"Oh thank Aelfric," Cyrus muttered under his breath as he walked up to the group. The atmosphere around H'aanit had somehow gotten very awkward absurdly quickly, so he was thankful for the diversion.

Tressa picked up the pace and ran ahead of the others to meet Cyrus halfway. "Professor Albright!" she cried. "I'm glad we found you!"

"And I'm glad I was found in turn," he replied with a smile. "Without H'aanit and Linde's intervention, I would be wounded far more than I currently am."

Tressa pursed her lips together in concern as she looked at the various cuts on Cyrus. "Well, we'll have to get ya fixed up regardless. Hey, Ophilia!"

At Tressa's calling, the cleric tried her best to hurry over to where both the merchant and the scholar were standing. Cyrus couldn't help but raise a thoughtful eyebrow upon seeing her appearance. Poor Ophilia looked like she was going to vomit from all the running she had been doing. "Are you sure you shouldn't take care of yourself first?" Cyrus couldn't help but ask her.

"Professor, I can assure you that I—HRK! …I concede your point," Ophilia sheepishly admitted. Raising her holy stave aloft, Ophilia muttered the magic words, "Bring about the miracle of healing!"

A shimmering golden light enveloped both Ophilia and Cyrus. The healing effect was instantaneous for the both of them. The cuts and wounds on Cyrus' body closed back up as if he had never been injured at all. Ophilia felt a sense of pure relief as her stomach stopped churning and color returned to her face. It was amazing what an application of some holy healing magic could do for people.

It only took the rest of the group another minute to gather around Cyrus. They were all lightly panting from the stress of running, with the exception of Alfyn. Instead, he was hunched over and feverishly munching on an Inspiriting Plum that he taken out of his pocket, trying to use the natural healing properties of the fruit to ease his exhaustion.

"I'm glad that you weren't seriously harmed," started Olberic. "But still, what were you doing all the way out here? We all believed you to be in town."

Cyrus offered a sheepish shrug in response. "If I am to be honest, I had so much on my mind that I could not pay attention to my surroundings well."

"Haven't we all?" Primrose rhetorically said to nobody in particular.

Tressa gave Therion, who was now standing next to her, a slight nudge with her elbow. It was apparent that she thought this would be as good of an opportunity as any to get his apology and gift out there.

With a small huff, Therion began to say, "Hey Cyrus, I know—"

"Actually, I have something that I do want to say to all of you," abruptly cut off Cyrus. Therion rolled his eyes at being interrupted like that, but decided to let Cyrus speak.

"I know that this experience has been… trying for us all. There is no denying such. And I'm afraid that we may not ever complete forget the terrors that we encountered in those catacombs due to my actions," Cyrus continued. "However! That is not to say that we cannot move onwards! We are an odd band, but a strong one to be sure. A knight, a dancer, a hunter and her partner, a thief, a merchant, a cleric, an apothecary, and I, a scholar. Perhaps we were brought together for some higher reason, or maybe we are just traveling together by the ways of chance. Regardless of the reason, I hereby declare that I will devote myself unto you all to the utmost extent! To regain my trust with you all, I swear that I will stay by your side, doing all I can to be of assistance! Now, I would understand perfectly fine if you reject my offer at the moment. But, please keep in mind that as much as you may look out for others, I will look out for all of you."

A small silence followed the lengthy impromptu speech that Cyrus gave, with it only being broken by Therion flatly saying, "Well, that was a nice sermon there."

"You think so?" Cyrus asked without a shred of irony.

"Shucks, Professor Albright! Ya didn't need to make some big apology for us!" Alfyn said. He punctuated his statement with a hearty pat on Cyrus' back.

"Yeah, we like you just fine! Right, guys?" Tressa added, looking at the others.

Olberic nodded. "The professor is indeed a fine companion."

"Yes, I do enjoy him as a part of our group," said Ophilia with a nice smile.

"I certainly don't mind his company," confirmed Primrose.

"I feeleth the same," H'aanit added.

Reaching into his pocket, Therion opined, "Well, while we're all on the 'Praising Cyrus Caravan' here…". Then, pulling out the writing set, he lightly shoved it onto Cyrus's chest. "Here. An apology gift for you."

That made Cyrus blink in surprise. "An apology gift? What for?"

"I've been made aware that I _may be_ , in fact, a jerk," Therion explained. He didn't see Tressa nodding in agreement beside him. "Especially last night. And I wanted to apologize for saying some things in the moment. So, no hard feelings?"

Taking the pen case, Cyrus opened it to find a rather high quality fountain pen. "My word! This is quite a gift, Therion!"

"Yeah, well, you can thank Tressa for the idea," Therion said. Tressa herself flashed a toothy smile at Therion for mentioning her part in it all. He also didn't see that either.

Suddenly and without warning, Cyrus enveloped his arms around Therion in a friendly hug. Therion himself immediately went as rigid as a wooden board with the abrupt physical contact.

"Ohhhhhh-kay, you're hugging me now. A bit too much hugging," came out Therion's suddenly strained voice, stained with awkwardness.

Letting go of Therion, Cyrus then said, "I'm sorry, but I'm just so relieved! And here I was, worried as can be that I failed you all!"

"Yeah, don't worry and all that, but next time give me a warning before you start hugging, okay?" complained Therion, straightening out his poncho.

"I'll be sure to treasure this gift, Therion," thanked Cyrus. He made sure to stash away the pen and the case next to his notebook inside of his cloak. Then, turning his attention to everyone else, he added, "And I'll be sure to treasure all of your company, I can promise you that."

"Same here, buddy, same here," said Alfyn. "I think I'm speakin' for everyone with that."

"Can we head back to town now?" Therion then asked. "I think we could all use a drink."

Alfyn and Cyrus nodded vigorously at the suggestion. "Walking around out here all morning has made my quite parched," mentioned Cyrus.

And at that, the group of travelers, united by their reformed bonds of trust and resolve, started back down the road to Quarrycrest. Although the path to get there had been as rough and wearisome as the road up to Quarrycrest itself, there was no doubt that the experience had made them even stronger as people. No longer were they just a band of individuals traveling together mainly for their own gain, but now they were a true caravan of companions. Friends, even. There was justice in their actions against Gideon, and the just get thusly rewarded.

They kept on walking together, not as merely eight travelers, but as the truest of companions.

 **XXX**

 **And there you have it! I hope you all enjoyed the conclusion of Cyrus' little story arc here. I did my best at trying to make the battle scene both accurate to the game's turn-based mechanics while also being engaging, so I certainly hope that I pulled that off right. Anyways, we're almost done here! Just one more little bit, just to send our eight travelers on their way. Both you and they deserve a coda to the events experienced here, don't you think?**

 **Anyways, this is The Draigg, and I'm signing off for now!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: Unto The World, Once More**

 **Hello everyone! I've finally come back to write the last chapter of this story. Once again, I apologize for the delay. I swear, I have good reasons for it. It involved both appendix removal surgery and my computer starting to die on me. But fear not! I'm here to conclude this tale for all of you! With all of the excuses and apologies out of the way, let's wrap up this story, shall we?**

 **XXX**

It didn't take too long for the band of eight travelers to get their belongings in order for the journey ahead, now that they had arrived back to their rooms at the inn. There wasn't much in the collective possession that was bulky, and what few objects that were could be fit in Alfyn and Tressa's packs with ease. For the most part, the party just lived with whatever they carried on their person. It was rather fortunate for them that they were a lightly-weighted caravan.

Tressa finally did up the clasps on her merchant's backpack and slung it onto her shoulders. Even with the sudden weight placed on her shoulders, she felt as light as air itself. That experience she had with Therion during the morning hours really did make her feel better. In fact, her head had felt clearer than ever. Tressa couldn't help but smile in Therion's direction at the thought of his help.

Noticing this out of the corner of his eye, Therion raised an eyebrow. "What're you smiling at?"

"You, ya silly," Tressa beamed. "You know, you're not really that bad of a guy."

Therion scoffed. "You've got your faith placed in the wrong guy, girly."

"Nonsense! Not a lot of people would've reached out the way you did today," refuted Tressa.

"It was you who dragged me into it," Therion offered back.

"No way, you're a softie at heart, I just know it!" exclaimed Tressa.

A voice came from the back area of the room the party had gathered in. "Come on you two, save the bantering for the road," lectured Primrose. "…But it's true, Therion. Your heart is as fuzzy as your wool poncho."

Therion caught onto the clear teasing from Primrose. "You know, when I think about being tag-teamed by two brunettes, this isn't what I usually have in mind," he groaned. That remark got him an elbow to the side from H'aanit.

"Letcher," she bluntly commented.

"Prude," Therion lobbed back.

"Enough, all of you," came Olberic's authoritative voice. Then, turning to Therion specifically, he said, "Just take the compliment, Therion."

Therion gave a defeated shrug. "Fine, fine, I'll be this 'nice guy' that you all seem to see me as."

"Then welcome to the club, buddy!" Alfyn beamed. That only got him a sigh in return from Therion.

Ophilia gave a positive nod. "Aelfric's light shines in you as well, Therion."

"Well great, now that we've got that out of the way, can we get a move on already?" groaned Therion. "I'm sure we've all got stuff to find and people to kill, and they aren't to get taken care of by themselves."

"Very true, Therion," agreed Cyrus, patting Therion on the shoulder. "Well, to varying degrees, I suppose. Taking the lives of others isn't exactly high on my list of things to do while I'm on my academic absence."

"If anything, I wanna do the opposite of that," commented Alfyn.

"Indeed," said Ophilia with a nod. "The Pilgrimage of the Sacred Flame is not a path that necessarily encourages bloodshed."

H'aanit gave an ambivalent shrug to those comments. "If a life be taketh in the courseth of mine quest, then so shallen it be."

"Look, I'm sure all of us would rather not kill, given the chance," offered Primrose. "But honestly, given some circumstances, that's practically unavoidable." Internally, Primrose reflected how killing in the name of revenge was the entire point of her quest. Still, it did no actual good to be so casual about it. It was a serious matter, even if people like those men in black robes had it coming to them.

Olberic could tell what Primrose was thinking by looking at her face. It was mainly because his quest wasn't that different from hers. But, it still paid off to hold one's self to a code of honor. Death may not be pretty, but it was always at your heels in some way or another.

"…Just like Gideon," Cyrus observed.

"That monster who wearen the guise of a man deserveth more than just death," H'aanit stated matter-of-factly. There came no immediate disagreements with that statement.

"I'm pretty sure Aelfric can forgive us in that case. Right, Ophilia?" asked Alfyn.

Ophilia pressed her lips together in thought. After a moment of thinking, she said, "I think he would see how justice has been meted out, and accept it as necessary."

Olberic nodded. "Indeed, if it was to protect the innocent, then Gideon's killing was truly justified. Some people just cannot be negotiated with."

Cyrus let out a small sigh. "In any case, we're just going to have to live with it. And hopefully we'll come out stronger for it all. If we can handle an evil blood wizard, who's to say we can't take on the rest of the world and make it a better place?"

Primrose nodded. "Well said, Professor Albright."

"Yeah!" agreed Tressa. "If this journey changed Therion for the better, I can't wait to see what comes up next!" She paid no mind to the annoyed groan that Therion let out in response.

Olberic couldn't help but smile slightly. He had no idea what to expect when he decided to team up with this band of wanderers, but now he could see that he made the right choice by choosing to go with them. With the amount of personal strength on display within these people, there was still hope for Orsterra yet. Even if one day Olberic faltered in his quest for justice, he had no doubt that his companions would help carry him to his goal with determination blazing in their hearts.

"Your optimism is certainly contagious, Professor Albright. The same goes for you, young Tressa," complimented Olberic. "In that case, let us carry that feeling with us onto the open road ahead!"

Tressa beamed at Olberic's cheerful declaration, and the rest of the group gave off varying degrees of smiles. Even Therion, although one would have to closely examine his otherwise emotionally-obscured face. The pace of their packing was noticeably quickened as well, and before the group even knew it, they were all ready to leave Quarrycrest and continue upon their journey, wherever it took them.

It was time to finally put everything behind them.

XXX

The trip out of Quarrycrest was slightly delayed due to Cyrus and Tressa wanting to make sure everything was squared away with the people they had met during this leg of the trip. Cyrus made sure to bid farewell to Odette, given that she was the only person in town he truly knew as a friend. As for Tressa, made sure to say goodbye to Ali, the merchant she had met while selling skystones. He was healing nicely after the rough treatment he had previously gotten from Morlock's men, and Tressa was relieved to see him well before she left town.

It was the late afternoon when the eight travelers finally hit the dirt road that led out of town. The market stalls were starting to be spread thin, with plenty starting to close up due to prime merchant hours ending soon. Overall, the atmosphere that surrounded the group was one of peace and serenity, with the warm sun over Orsterra shining comfortably over them.

The group was engaged in idle chatter for the most part as the moved along. Therion and Tressa were talking about the prices that Tressa charged for her skystones the other day. Primrose and Ophelia were talking about their shared experiences with singing, albeit with the difference being that Ophelia was more used to hymns and Primrose commonly sung tavern shanties to entertain guests. H'aanit was currently being borderline interrogated by Alfyn, who kept on asking her about what kind of rare medicinal plants she had encountered while in the deep woods of her home. As for Cyrus, he was off in his own world, muttering to himself on occasion while he took notes in his notebook with his new pen. However, Olberic was completely silent, almost in contemplation.

Cyrus bumped into the back of Olberic, who had briefly stopped for a second to listen for something. "Oof! I am terribly sorry about that!" the professor apologized.

Olberic remained silent as he kept on walking, a look of realization slowly appearing on his face. Cyrus raised an eyebrow, curious as to what seemed to grab the attention of his traveling companion's mind.

"Is something troubling you, my friend?" Cyrus asked. "You suddenly have a worried look about you."

Olberic didn't make eye contact as he spoke to Cyrus. "Don't stop, and don't look back—but I feel eyes upon us."

That made Cyrus scratch his head in thought. "Someone watching, you mean? Hmm… It would well behoove us to trust your instincts…"

"The question is, who?" Olberic muttered.

"Let us drag them out of hiding and find out. Compel them to confess their intentions," suggested Cyrus. After all, as a scholar he knew that the simplest solutions were usually the most effective. It simply made logical sense to interrogate their new stalker.

Olberic let out a small sigh. "We could try. But if they escape, we will only have served to alert them..."

Cyrus shrugged. "Then only one other avenue is open to us."

That made Olberic cock his head slightly. "What would that be?"

"Continue on our way, pretend we have noticed nothing, and let them make the first move," offered the scholar.

Olberic gave a small nod. It was probably the best solution that they had given how recent this event had popped up. "If that be your advice, so be it." He then added, "But you must be our lookout. Do not let your guard slip."

That made Cyrus smirk slightly. "Hehe. Knowing one's enemy is the first step to defeating him."

Cyrus' sudden smug acceptance of this new challenge slightly baffled Olberic. The knight knew that Cyrus indeed possessed a brilliant mind, and was easily a master of all forms of strategy games and logic puzzles presented to him. However, given the professor's rather anemic physique, Olberic had some doubts about how readily he accepted this challenge by himself. Still, he had to admit that Cyrus did possess a significant amount of courage to take on such a responsibility so readily. What Cyrus lacked in physical strength, Olberic hoped he could make up in bravery.

"I cannot tell if you're courageous...or ignorant of the danger," Olberic said to himself, out of earshot of Cyrus.

Regardless, at least there was someone else in the group who was aware of the possible looming threat at their heels. Even if Cyrus hadn't seen the person that had been following the group, his obsidian-black cloak would serve to be a rather obvious marker for the stalker's presence. That, and if Cyrus could handle what they had seen in Quarrycrest the other day, then Olberic trusted that he could accept this new posting. There was certainly some new trust in the professor that hadn't always been there before.

With those thoughts pushed to the wayside of his mind, Olberic continued walking down the path, with Cyrus close behind him. Cyrus himself was starting to take notes of this sighting of a stalker in his notebook. As for everybody else, they carried on as if they were relieved of the burdens of the world. It was certainly best to believe that, at least for a little while.

As for where they carried onto, who is to say? Only the Gods would know the answer to that question.

 _THE END_

 **XXX**

 **And there you have it! I hope you all enjoyed my expansion of the game's story there. Honestly, I really liked those chapters, and I just wanted to show my appreciation by expanding upon the points brought up in them. I'm glad that Square Enix and Acquire were able to inspire me with their game (and provide me some dialogue to lead into the cliffhanger ending here. It's all theirs, not mine). And I'm glad that you and other people read this story! I hoped you liked it!**

 **This has been The Draigg, and I'm finally signing off on this story!**


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